


In Darkened Hallways

by Morpheus626



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1767331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern hospital AU--everyone works or is involved with a hospital as a healer, med student, or patient. A little bit of Scrubs in Middle Earth in a way.</p><p>Sauron, a criminal master who had previously run various illegal enterprises and caused enormous amounts of trouble for the local hospital and its team is thought to be gone from Middle Earth--until Gandalf discovers proof otherwise. Suddenly Elrond and the rest of his crew running the hospital find themselves faced with a foe that they did not think would ever return, with new families and friends to try and protect--not to mention all of the patients (both current and potential) that will depend on them to keep the hospital and city safe. </p><p>*Please note that I've only listed the characters that are in the story so far--more will be added, so if you are reading looking for a favorite they will probably make an appearance in one of the next installments!The same goes for potential warnings, as none currently apply--I will add any for violence or other issues if and when they come up.*</p><p>Edit: Note that warnings have changed! Nothing in the next chapter is actually super graphic, but I still wanted folks to be aware of some violence in Ch. 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is not much to say other than that I am incredibly excited for this work :) As of right now I am anticipating at least five chapters if not more, depending on plot lines and where those end up. I really hope everyone who reads enjoys this, because it is truly a labor of love!
> 
> I do not own these characters in any of their portrayals--movie, book, or otherwise. They belong to Tolkien and those who made the adaptations. I'm merely borrowing them for a bit. 
> 
> As always, feel free to comment here or contact me at my tumblr: www.itsalwaysprettiestafterthefall.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks to any and all who read!

Elrond

* * *

“You’re too old for this, you know that right?” Lindir asked as the latest guest to the ER was pushed through the doors. A car accident victim, human, seemingly crushed beyond repair. Then again, when the battle is between a Prius and a semi, Elrond wouldn’t expect anything else. The fact that the poor bastard survived as long as he had was a miracle if nothing else. Normally Elrond would be where a healer of his status would be expected to be: tucked away in his office, dealing with paperwork and petty grievances between the other healers. Somehow he can’t stay away from the actual grit of the job though. Lindir would say he went looking for it. Then again, Lindir said a lot of things, not all of which are that accurate. 

He was probably right about this though. 

Elrond gritted his teeth as the gurney passed them by. The sight was far from pretty, and while his stomach no longer convulsed at the sight of gore as it did when he was a student this was still a fairly painful thing to view. 

Lindir hadn't waited for a response to his question, and had instead fallen into his role as the leader of the ER for the night. This was perhaps the biggest thing that baffled the humans that ended up being treated at their hospital; that specialties are shared by all and nearly every healer could work in nearly every department without issue. No subject went unstudied for elf healers, unlike humans in the same trade. Granted, the humans were working with a far shorter life span, so their need for consistency in their studies was understandable. Still, Elrond smiled whenever he would see a baffled human patient waking up in the morning to find that their surgeon was now working as a nurse, to help cover shifts. 

He had been moving without thinking, every action automatic so often has he gone through them. The OR had been prepped and Lindir was already in full surgical garb, directing nurses and others around the gurney. 

“Are you ready?” Lindir asked him, his voice muffled by the mask over his face. 

Elrond nodded grimly, and they set about their task. 

All in all, they spent about five hours in surgery. Elrond could hardly bear to list all of the injuries the poor man had—broken legs, broken arms, a punctured lung, a fractured skull…and on and on the list went. But they’d done it; the man lived and seemed as though he would recover well enough. His legs might ache before rain, and there might be a bit of extra memory loss as he aged, but ultimately it seemed as though their healing skills had done their work well. The man had already woken once, much to the surprise of pretty much everyone (except for Lindir), and had begged for food and water. It was a pleasant surprise to see after fighting so hard for the man. 

“I knew he’d be up before we left! I told you, didn’t I? I did, I know I did.” Lindir was nearly bouncing alongside Elrond as they walked the corridor to the break room (which was really a glorified dorm room at this point—couches and futons and pillows everywhere, so a healer could fall pretty much anywhere at the end of a long shift to get some sleep.) 

And sleep was clearly what Lindir needed. 

“How many hours have you been awake now?” Elrond muttered reaching a hand up to pull his hair out of the bun he put it in for his shift. 

Lindir grinned. “At least seventy-two, give or take five.” He was literally bouncing now, as they stood outside the door to the break room. 

Elrond rolled his eyes. “As your supervisor, I’m telling you to sleep, okay? I know you could probably go another day, but do you really want to?” 

Lindir only smiled wider and shrugged. He definitely needed sleep. 

The break room was empty except for a few healers in the locker area, retrieving their things before they went home for the day. Or so it seemed. 

Lindir thumped himself down on a futon that seemed to be piled with blankets, only to immediately be shoved off onto the floor by the elf underneath the pile. Elrond laughed as Lindir collected himself, and Thranduil rose slowly from the futon. 

“Do you not ever look where you’re sitting?” he growled. His blonde waist-length hair was all in tangles and his scrubs were rumpled beyond belief. This look was more than normal for the director of the hospital’s morgue, and if Elrond was honest he thought Thranduil actually looked rather tidy for once. 

Lindir never did answer, and had instead chosen to steal some blankets from the futon and stay on the floor. For a moment Elrond considered trying to move him to an actual piece of furniture, but he realized it wasn’t worth it if Lindir was already comfortable. 

Thranduil trudged over to the nearest mirror and grimaced at his reflection. “Please tell me it isn’t morning already.” 

“Sure. It definitely isn’t morning. Not at all. The five hour surgery we finished didn’t take place at four in the morning at all. So it definitely isn’t about, oh, nearly noon now.” Elrond smirked as Thranduil sighed and flopped down onto the nearest couch in what could only be described as defeat. 

“So you’re the walking dead then too?” 

“Very funny you arse. The “dead stuff” jokes really don’t get old. Ever. Really. And I’ll have you know those students trailing my every move left half of their work undone or done poorly, and guess who got to take care of it all?” Thranduil glowered at Elrond, looking more than a bit ridiculous with his hair even more out of sorts than it had been before. 

Elrond sighed. “The med students aren’t that bad Thranduil. Still a bit undedicated maybe, but they’ll get there.” 

“Right, and then they can take our places as utterly batshit insane healers and morgue workers who overwork themselves to the point of exhaustion. Well, they’re certainly being slow about it, and at the very least they can learn to finish their paperwork properly.” 

Elrond sighed again and reached for Thranduil’s hand. The other elf allowed himself to be pulled to a stand, but he hardly looked happy about it. 

“Go clean up a bit, you’ll be fine. There’s a whole other set of students that’ll be following you again today, and according to the schedule they should be here by…well now, actually. You might want to run before they starting messing about with the autopsy tools…” Elrond closed out of the schedule on his phone and watched as Thranduil hurriedly tied his hair back and dashed out the door. There was no one else in the break room to check on (thankfully) and he was looking forward to finally being able to sleep. He barely made it onto the futon near Lindir before he fell asleep. 

* * *

Thranduil

* * *

Fucking med students. He would have them all in the morgue as corpses rather than milling about his domain. And it was his domain. And that was the truth, no joke. He’d been there when the hospital had been built, and had helped design the morgue and its various other rooms and areas. His name was on the blueprint, it was truly his. And all of these idiots were wandering around it like children looking for small objects to choke on. 

A small cluster of dwarf, elf, hobbit, and human med students were crowded around the autopsy table, upon which lay the corpse of an elf—one of the very few lost in the past few months, who had been shot down in a fight against a group of orcs. The puckering skin from the arrow wounds combined with the scent of death seemed to be enough to have a few of the students turning green. 

“If you are going to throw up, pass out, or any combination of those two then please step outside the room. I’ll not have anyone throwing up in the chest cavity once I crack open the ribs—“ 

That statement sent a few students scurrying from the room, but a surprising majority remained. Thranduil raised an eyebrow at a few that scooted even closer to the table, but continued on with the autopsy. He barely had to think about each action (weigh this, remove that, replace the blood, stitch here, stitch there, so on and so forth) but it was incredibly intriguing to him that the students seemed so determined to keep up as his hands flew from one task to the next. He forgot so often now how invigorating it could be to have so much youth in the same room. 

However, he recalled precisely why he did not like having such green students in the room as a dwarf reeled backwards at the sight of Thranduil peeling back a bit of the corpse’s skin. He had intended to show them how the various layers of the body reacted so many hours after death, but that would have to wait now. 

“Everyone out. We’ll continue tomorrow.” Thranduil finished up with the body as quickly as he could, while the students still standing hovered over their fallen comrade and attempted to wake him. Finally, the student was steady enough to be led to the ER (where he would probably be found to have a concussion from his knock with the tile floor, and then Elrond would have another thing to bother Thranduil about. Fantastic.) 

Thranduil presumed all of the students had followed after each other (not unlike cattle, he thought to himself) and so was a bit surprised to turn from the tools he was collecting to clean to see a dwarf student still standing there, lavender moleskin and pen at the ready. 

“Erm. Class is over for today. Not that this is really a class, nor am I a teacher, but there you have it.” Thranduil continued collecting the tools as the dwarf stood there, looking a bit confused now. 

“Oh. Well, I just had a few questions, is all. See, I’m actually majoring in English and—“ 

“Then what in the world are you doing here?” Thranduil moved to the sink to start cleaning, and sighed internally as the dwarf trailed after him. 

“I’m hoping to record and study medical history, sir, and my instructors thought it would be good for me to actually see the medical field as it happens. After all, history tends to repeat itself, right?” The dwarf looked incredibly nervous now, and was on the verge of stuttering. Maybe Legolas was right, and Thranduil was more intimidating than he realized. If anyone would know it would be his son. 

Thranduil set aside the tools he was cleaning and turned back to the dwarf. “What’s your name?” 

“Ori, sir.” 

Brother to the infamous criminal Nori then. Thranduil wouldn’t have guessed the relation from looking at the lad, but the name sealed the connection. He expected that the pickpocket (and so much more) would end up in his morgue sooner rather than later, but found it to be a happy surprise that he was dealing with one of the more reliable (and less likely to die) brothers instead. 

“Ori. I’ve got several books detailing some of the first procedures that took place in this hospital. Normally I wouldn’t be so free with lending them, but I think I can trust you. Can’t I?” 

Ori nodded quickly. “Of course you can sir. I’ll take the utmost care of them.” 

Thranduil smiled. “Well, they’re actually a bit worse for the wear, and a bit more worse won’t do them much extra harm now. Just skim over the bits that mention my working in the cafeteria and I think you’ll be fine.” 

The dwarf grinned and happily bounced out the door as Thranduil sent him away with the books. If only half the students following him about could be so interested and strong-stomached. 

* * *

Elrond

* * *

He was supposed to be safe in his office: from Lindir, from med students, from pretty much anyone. Yet now there was a crowd of med students in his office, complaining loudly about Thranduil and concussions and something about someone’s skin being peeled back? 

Lindir was right. He was getting a bit too old for this. 

“One at a time, please. What did the director actually do to any of you?” 

Silence. 

“Well, he—“ 

“I was really uncomfortable and um—“ 

“Our friend passed out!” 

Elrond ran a hand through his unbound hair and sighed. “Plenty of students pass out during sessions in the morgue. He’s doing well now, and he’ll be fine. The director did what was right in ending the lesson. If you don’t want to go back tomorrow, then tell me so I can write a note for your instructors to send you to a different area of the hospital.” 

He didn’t leave any room for questions, and so the students filed out of his office, more than a bit red and embarrassed. Undoubtedly a good number of them would ask for the offered transfer, and he would have to grant it whether he wanted to or not. Thranduil had a better deal than he knew in the whole mess—he wouldn’t have to deal with angry students or instructors. At least Elrond could close (and lock) his office door now, before anyone else should come in. 

“Elrond! I was hoping I might find you here.” Gandalf boomed (and why was he always at his loudest when Elrond was on the edge of a headache?) 

“Hello Gandalf. If you’re looking for the Lady she’s out of the office today, and will be for the rest of the week. So I’m terribly afraid I cannot hel—“ 

“You are the only one who can help me with this. The Lady has already refused me, and I cannot find Thranduil…” Gandalf flung his tied beard over his shoulder as he took the seat in front of Elrond’s desk, and looked positively pleased with his intrusion. 

Elrond groaned internally. “Thranduil is in trouble enough I’ll have you know. He’s probably hiding from me at the moment, actually. I really don’t think I can be of much use right now Gandalf; I’ve got far too many shifts to help cover and so much more. I am truly sorry.” He wasn’t, but Gandalf didn’t need to know that. The old wizard had long since ceased to actually work within the hospital; instead he traveled to various inlets and villages and offered whatever healing services he could. This meant Gandalf had more than enough time to come up with half-cocked schemes and ventures that almost always required the participation of others (meaning Elrond, the Lady Galadriel, Thranduil, and whoever else could be persuaded to join in.) 

“The task is simple. You should be more than up to it.” Gandalf was quite stern now. 

“What then would you have me do?” Elrond leaned back in his chair and gave Gandalf an expectant glare. Maybe he would get lucky and the task could be pawned off onto Thranduil…then he’d have both the task and “punishment” for incident in the morgue taken care of all in one. With all that done he might actually manage a few hours’ worth of relaxation, and the Valar knew he could certainly do with that. 

Gandalf sighed. “You recall one of our…regulars?” 

Elrond straightened up in his chair. “Regulars” had become hospital code for anyone who came into the hospital to cause trouble, whether they were actually sick or not. Elves, orcs, hobbits, goblins, dwarves…every race had one or two “regulars” to the hospital. All were a problem for Elrond. 

“Which one? The list has grown quite a bit over the past few months.” Elrond turned in his chair to the filing cabinet near his desk, and retrieved a file. It landed on the desk with a thick ‘thud’, and Gandalf simply stared in amazement at it. 

Elrond raised his eyebrows and shrugged at that. He couldn’t be expected to explain why so many more folk were coming and causing problems. In the end, he just wanted to be sure they wouldn’t hurt any other patients, and would receive whatever care they might actually need. 

“Hm. Well. I think you no longer will find this fellow’s name on the books, but that does not mean he is gone.” Gandalf leaned forward in his chair. “Sauron has returned to the city.” 

Elrond leaned back once again in his chair, a studious expression on his face. “So? That does not mean he will show up here. In fact, we should hope he avoids us entirely. But thank you for the warning Gandalf.” 

The wizard shook his head vehemently. “You do not understand! He seeks a powerful relic that is rumored to be in the city, and quite possibly in our hospital. He will do anything to have it back. You know the relic of which I speak.” 

At this Elrond’s heart nearly stopped. Or at least, that was how the panic that raced through him felt. The Ring, the One Ring, could not be in their building. It had been lost ages ago, in the years before the hospital had even been built, back when their group had been less than a traveling clinic…it could not be there. 

But Gandalf looked deathly serious, and it was a rare thing to see his face so shadowed by trouble and worry. If Gandalf was worried, then they all had reason to worry. 

“I’ll start a security sweep immediately.” Elrond stood from his chair, hoping that a few of the hospitals guards would be available. Tauriel or Legolas would be ideal, as they would be quiet about it. But the two could be notoriously difficult to track down midday, but if he found Thranduil then perhaps he might have some help in the search... 

“Elrond. Do not panic. You know that is not the way to go about this. It is what he wants. And he will come here. His drug ring is up again from what I’ve heard, along with some other less-than-savory businesses. Even if he does not walk through the doors himself, his cohorts will, and we must be prepared to deal with the chaos they could bring.” 

Gandalf was right. Elrond did his best to compose himself, plotting out what his next steps would be. After alerting security he would have to find Galadriel—she did not have the option to opt out of this venture in the end, nor did Thranduil or Celeborn (who spent most of his days in the NICU as of late.) All of them were considered guardians over the hospital and by proxy the city and all those nearby cities that the hospital served, so it would not do to abandon their posts now. 

“I’ll leave you to the rest of your day, Elrond. My cellphone is always with me if you should need to reach me.” Gandalf rose from his chair and began to walk out of Elrond’s office. 

Elrond followed him and grabbed the wizard’s arm. “And where you are going? We will certainly want you here—“ 

“And you shall have me here when I am able to be present. I have other duties to attend to. At this particular moment, a birth taking place in the Shire that requires my knowledge of midwifery. Things will be fine Elrond. As I said, call if you need me here sooner.” And with that, Gandalf swept out of the room and down the hall, his long coat swishing against his heels. 

Elrond looked back to his desk, with a half-finished cup of tea and comfortable chair, and sighed. He really ought to have known better than to expect things to be quiet for so long. Life had taught him better than that. He shut the door to his office as he left, and started the search for a member of the security team. 

* * *

Thranduil

* * *

Other than the annoyances with the med students, he found the rest of his week was going well. No particularly troublesome corpses or death certificates to deal with, just the average hobbit lost to old age or dwarf to a mining accident. Nice and easy, just as he liked it. Until Elrond came barreling down the hallway to the morgue and nearly ran him over. That was decidedly less than pleasant. 

“Is it everyone’s dream to somehow crush me? First Lindir laying on me and now you…if there’s a conspiracy you may as well tell me you know. “Thranduil groused as he peeled himself away from the wall. At least he hadn’t had anyone actually landing on him this time, and had avoided a collision. 

“We are holding a meeting. Your presence is required. Meet in Meeting Room A…wait, no, that’s being used. Meeting Room C is…having the carpets cleaned. There’s the cafeteria if nothing else…actually never mind. We should meet outside of the hospital, that’ll be best…” Elrond trailed off and seemed lost in thought. 

Thranduil rarely saw Elrond so unfocused. It was rather irritating and unbecoming. 

“I won’t say no to dinner, if that’s what you’re asking. Something tells me we aren’t just meeting for fun however. And is it just the two of us?” Thranduil leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. He’d been hoping to leave for home as soon as he had could, but clearly he wouldn’t be leaving alone. 

Elrond seemed to be knocked out of his trance at that. “Nothing fun at all. And I still need to find Galadriel, Celeborn, and Celebrían of course. Gandalf will be joining us later, to help explain things. I’ve already notified your son and the rest of the security team of the possible risk. All that’s left is for us to discuss our next steps.” 

Thranduil had certainly been a bit confused a moment ago, but he was all the more confused now. “Don’t get me wrong Elrond. I love hearing you talk in riddles and dance around your actual message, but I’m tired and need a shower, so could you please be blunt for once?” 

Elrond sighed. “Sauron is back in the city. There is an artifact that he has taken interest in, which Gandalf believes is in the hospital or very near it. In any case, it is likely Sauron will return to cause trouble here again. We should be prepared.” 

Thranduil felt the blood drain from his face. Sauron was the utter bane of his existence—the brute had sent a literal bloodbath into the morgue when he had been active in the past, and besides the fact that they couldn’t keep up with the rate of bodies coming in was the horrible task of talking to family members after they’d been notified of a body being found. As director of the morgue, it fell more often than not for Thranduil to speak with the families. He could not forget the shrill and tortured cries of those mothers and fathers, the tears and unescapable pain the families had suffered. He carried it with him, as he did so many other things. Worse yet was how Sauron’s troubles had lost him his father. 

Oropher had perished in the line of duty while working as a senior police officer. Whenever anyone asked about his father, Thranduil left it at that. He didn’t like to say anything more on his father—not anymore at least. In his mind, his father should have been smarter, should have waited for the order to move in on the drug den Sauron was running. Instead he had gone in with his small squad alone, leaving the other most senior member of the force, Gil-Galad, to clean up the mess that came after. And it had seemed a war, with the constant violence on the streets between the police force and Sauron’s various cronies. It had been awful, and the whole event was the final straw that kept Thranduil from following in his father’s footsteps. He was trained in self-defense and could handle a gun, but he never wanted to have to use either skill. He would rather be in his morgue cleaning up the results of such skills and situations, where he could observe it safely, and try and pretend that he could feel safe from it all (even if he never truly did.) 

Thranduil swallowed back everything he wanted to say—mostly curses and threats to Sauron, but they really didn’t have time for that if the return of Sauron was true. “And we will be prepared Elrond. I will see to it that Legolas and Tauriel and the rest of their team understand the danger—“ 

Elrond looked mournfully at Thranduil. “You need not worry. I think I impressed that upon them well enough.” 

Thranduil let a small smile slip onto his face. “You forgot that they lock the door to their break room, didn’t you?” 

“I ran right into it. Tauriel was very kind in making sure I wasn’t injured, and your son did a fantastic job of keeping the others from laughing at me.” Elrond chuckled. He must have been a sight, slamming right into the damned door without really thinking about what he was doing—he had let his worry cloud his rationale, something he couldn’t let happen again. Gandalf was right; he was panicking a bit too much—or at least too much for the moment. 

Thranduil grinned at that. “Well, they don’t often see you in a panic, so perhaps they do understand. I don’t believe they are ready for what might come our way though.” 

Elrond shrugged. “Perhaps not. They are younger than we are, they have not seen what we have or fought as we did to save so many. But they will learn quickly, and I’m sure they will do well and prove themselves to us.” 

Thranduil’s smile fell. That was perhaps what he worried about the most: that Legolas or Tauriel (one of Legolas’ dearest friends) would fall should Sauron bring violence through the hospital doors or to the grounds. He was strong; he could handle a great deal—but he could not handle preparing the body of his own son or any of his son’s colleagues. 

Elrond frowned. “Please don’t worry too much—at least not now. If we prepare now, then we can face whatever might come our way. I need to find Celeborn next, will you join me?” 

“Of course.” Thranduil felt he might be shirking his duties if he did not come with now, and the NICU could be an oddly comforting place. He dealt with those who had already lost the battle, but the healers in the NICU were surrounded by so many young ones fighting strongly for their lives—it was an atmosphere of hope. 

“Come then. The sooner we get everyone updated and prepared to face what may come, the better.” Elrond sighed and fumbled at his right wrist for a hair tie that was no longer there. 

“Here. The less ridiculous you look in front of your in-laws the better.” Thranduil slipped an extra hair tie out of his pocket, and resisted the urge to make a smart comment when Elrond barely managed to pull his hair back. He started down the hallway but was yanked back by Thranduil. 

“Give me a second. The Lady will laugh us out of the ward if she sees you like that.” Thranduil turned Elrond to the wall and yanked the hair tie out of his hair. 

“Was it really that bad?” Elrond mumbled. 

Thranduil sighed and kept on braiding Elrond’s hair. “Yes. Yes it was, and normally I would enjoy watching her laugh at you, but we need everyone serious right now. You look a bit more put together now, and much nicer in general if I do say so myself.” 

“Is that your way of telling me I looked horrible?” Elrond turned back to look at Thranduil, but the coroner was already striding down the hallway. 

Thranduil smiled as he heard Elrond’s footsteps trailing after him. Maybe he was being a bit of a jerk, but Elrond had calmed down enough to face his in-laws and that was what mattered. 

Going to see Celebrían would be a different matter entirely, but they would cross that bridge once they got to it. 

* * *

Celebrían

* * *

She was dead tired. That was literally the only thought in her head that was active, everything else was muscle memory. Her shift had gone way over since three healers hadn’t made it in for their shifts in Pediatrics, and she wasn’t one to leave any department hanging, even if Pediatrics wasn’t her favorite… 

So here she was, exhausted and more than ready to go home. With any luck, Elrond would be ready to go and might have even grabbed her things as well; she could change quickly in the nearest locker room and they could be gone before anyone needed them again. 

That thought had her distracted to the point that she didn’t notice Elrond speeding around the corner, with Thranduil in tow. She was brought back to reality by Thranduil’s screech of exasperation as they all thudded into one another. 

“Again, really? And here I thought I was special—turns out you’re just trying to run over everyone, even your wife. I’m hurt Elrond, I really am…” 

Celebrían smiled at his theatrics and then turned to Elrond. He looked awful. 

“Are you all right? You look a bit—“ 

“Horrible. She’s too nice to say it, but you still look like you just rolled out of bed…or the morgue for that matter.” Thranduil fussed at Elrond’s braid, which was coming undone much more quickly than he had anticipated it would. 

“We need to see your parents. We all need to meet—the hospital and its patients are in danger and we need a game plan. Or something.” Elrond’s eyes didn’t meet hers, but instead looked down the hall to the NICU. 

“Relax. Gandalf sent me an email, I know. I haven’t spoken to either of my parents about it yet, though I hear Mother has already been reluctant to believe that Sauron is really back…which is quite unlike her, considering how much she normally trusts in the news that mad wizard brings.” Celebrían absentmindedly reached up to brush a bit of Elrond’s hair from his eyes. 

Elrond was dumbfounded. “An email? He sent you an email? That’s it?!” 

“Yes dear. He needed to warn me of some possible…weapons that Sauron might make use of. Ones that only my main department could take care of—or could attempt to take care of.” Celebrían looked back down the hall to the NICU, where another set of weary parents was leaving. She didn’t like to mention her main work in Toxicology when she was working Pediatrics—it made parents uncomfortable, which was understandable. She was one sort of healer in Pediatrics, and another in the Toxicology section of the hospital, and that was the way she liked it. 

Thranduil and Elrond both went deathly pale at her statement. Everyone was aware Sauron had always been able to manufacture certain toxins and harmful chemicals—he hadn’t been shy about poisoning those in his way last time, so who was to say this was going to be any different? Yet somehow it still came as a bit of a shock to think he might dare to bring such things directly into the hospital. 

“Come. Father will be making sure all the little ones are ready for the night; we can catch him before he leaves if we’re quick.” Celebrían led Elrond and Thranduil down the hall and through the doors of the NICU as quietly as she could, and with good reason. The nursery of the NICU was quiet except for the humming of Celeborn as he checked on support machines and left whatever notes were needed for the next healer on shift. 

“Father, we need to speak with you and Mother regarding the issue Gandalf has—“ 

Celebrían was interrupted by the harsh sound of her cell phone and beeper going off. She winced and rushed back out into the hall as she pulled both devices off of her belt. A text message from Lindir was the first thing she saw: 

_Some sort of toxin released by goblins in ER waiting rm. Pts choking on floor, need you and rest of Tox dept here ASAP._

She took off down the hall without second thought, pausing only when Elrond grabbed her arm and stopped her. 

“What’s going on?” His eyes showed how scared he was, and she knew that he already knew, but that he would want to hear it anyways. 

Celebrían pulled her cellphone from the pocket of her scrubs and handed it to him. “They need as much help in the ER as they can get. I’ll need to head right into it to try and figure out what they released and how dangerous it is. If you two want to come down with me I’m sure Lindir will want the extra hands.” 

Thranduil and Elrond both nodded solemnly. Elrond handed Celebrían her phone, then took her hand in his as they walked quickly down the hall. 

“We’ll be fine. It’s the mortals in the waiting room that we’ll have to really worry about. And I don’t want a busy night, so we’re going to clean this up and keep everyone safe. Do you two hear me?” Thranduil mumbled from behind them. It was his way of coping—both Elrond and Celebrían knew he would be worried, as the main security team was no doubt already in the thick of things. With safety equipment on of course, but that couldn’t quell a father’s fear. Even if Legolas and Tauriel had been leaving for the night they both would have most likely doubled back as soon as their phones and beepers went off—they were dedicated and young, and so the job never really ended by the end of their shifts. 

A few sets of stairs later had them at the doors to the ER, which had been blocked off by a plastic partition to help reduce the spread of the toxins. Healers already in safety equipment were handing out masks and the cloth haz-mat suits the hospital kept on-hand. The main Tox team with the police would have been called by now, but the amount of time it would take them to get in with their (admittedly much safer) gear was too long to wait. 

After dressing in the gear, the three took a minute to compose themselves before the doors. Then, with their minds ready and set for the task at hand, they pressed onwards past the plastic and into the hallway of the ER’s waiting room.


	2. Chapter 2

Thranduil

* * *

“Fuck.” He muttered, less-than-quietly, under his breath. The nurses and doctors that had already been in the ER before the deployment of whatever was in the room were rushing about in desperation, trying to pull patients to rooms that might have even slightly cleaner air. Those same nurses and doctors were also starting to look a bit green around the gills themselves, but he would be damned if he had any more bodies on his table that night than absolutely had to be there. 

Lindir rushed out of the mess of struggling people to them. “Oh thank the Valar. Celebrían, everyone else is—“ 

“In back, I’m guessing. Easiest place to set up right now—do we have a count on how many dead?” Celebrían looked around the room grimly. She didn’t often wear her heart on her sleeve, not with anyone other than Elrond around at least, but even Thranduil could see that she was scared and worried. And she was one of the best out of the Toxicology unit—if she was scared, then everyone else should be terrified. 

“Back to the rest of the Tox team first then.” Elrond broke the silence that had stilled them all and let Celebrían lead him down the hall. 

Lindir turned to Thranduil then. “Can you help clean up out here? We’ve got extra body bags we pulled from the ambulance port and—“Lindir gasped and dropped to his knees suddenly, a panicked look on his face. 

Thranduil bent down and pulled the other elf off the floor. “Oh don’t you dare. You don’t get to nearly sit on me and then die on me on top of it all. There is no way you are doing that, do you hear me?” 

Lindir managed a small smile and let Thranduil drag him down the hall towards a room marked “Quarantine.” A nurse there quickly pulled Lindir into the room, then slammed the door shut again and went back to looking after the rest in the room. 

Thranduil turned back down the hall, which was mostly cleared thanks to the work of the nurses and doctors still outside of the rooms. Even they were dropping like flies though, and he couldn’t help but start to worry a bit more. He flagged down a passing nurse who was just starting to gasp for breath. 

“Why haven’t they brought in extra haz-mat gear for you? I was under the impression when I came in here they would be bringing something in…” He asked her. 

She shook her head and started to weep. “They won’t. We still don’t know what this is…we’re going to die there’s no point, there’s no point, they won’t risk anything else just for us, we’re going to die!” The nurse fell to her knees then, a hand at her throat as she gasped through her sobs. 

Thranduil knelt down to pull her up. This was bad, even worse than he’d expected. It was incredibly rare to see any of the medical personnel lose their heads for any reason, and was deeply unsettling. He trailed down the hall banging on doors of the exam rooms, but was turned away at each one, as all seemed full to bursting with people. Finally he reached the last and one of the biggest rooms in the unit, where the Tox team had set up and were desperately fumbling with samples and books to try and determine what they were facing. He rapped a fist against the door a bit more quietly than he had the others, not wanting to frighten the team out of their studious stupor. 

Elrond went to open the door, but was stopped be a member of the team, a male elf who pointed at the nurse at Thranduil’s side. He turned to Celebrían and Thranduil could see the two arguing, most likely over whether or not the nurse should be brought in as well. After a moment Celebrían pushed past the other elf and Elrond and yanked the door open. 

“We have oxygen, not a lot though. Get a mask on her and we’ll go from there.” Celebrían was grim, and her team seemed on the edge of a panic—if Thranduil hadn’t been a bit terrified before, than he certainly was now. 

“I should go back out—Lindir asked me to clean the halls of the…” Thranduil cut himself off before he said the one word he realized none of them wanted to hear or acknowledge. 

“Where is Lindir?” Elrond peeked back out the window of the door and peered down the hallway. “Is he still out there helping because we should try and get gear for him if we—“ 

“He is infected, if we can refer to what is happening as infection of some sort. I left him with a nurse who seemed to be in good health who was in one of the other rooms—he should be safe.” Thranduil didn’t, couldn’t, make eye contact with Elrond. He knew that Lindir had become a friend to Elrond back when Lindir was a med student traipsing around the hospital—despite the difference in age (which hardly mattered for the elves) their careers had managed to align fairly close to one another, and they often worked together if it was possible. Thranduil never would have said it out loud, but it seemed as though Lindir was like another son to Elrond—not that he needed another, his three kids seemed a handful enough. Not that something like that mattered to Elrond, who was literally the perfect picture of a healer to Thranduil. He cared for everything, people and plant and creature alike, so long as they were peaceful (unless forced to behave otherwise.) Thranduil, on the other hand, was at his best with plants and the dead—the only other things he was more proud of than Legolas was his career and his garden. 

With current events in mind, however, Thranduil was pondering if he would make it back to his morgue, his garden, or his son. He watched from a corner of the room as Celebrían and her team raced through books and their own notes, searching even more frantically now for something. The nurse sitting near Thranduil was still alive—but barely. He knew he couldn’t do much for her, but he thought he ought to try and help more somehow. 

He reached into his pocket, where he kept a sachet of ground athelas in case of emergencies. There was no wound to rub the herb into, but there had to be some way to use it to ease her suffering. 

“Does anyone have a lighter?” Thranduil mumbled as he watched the nurse struggle to breathe in the oxygen flowing through the mask over her nose and mouth. The team turned to him and glared. 

Elves were the least likely of any in the hospital (or city or world in general) to have a lighter anywhere on their person. They didn’t smoke, though many held onto and made ornate pipes simply for the act of creating something. A few might occasionally keep matches on them in the case of a hobbit or dwarf friend who partook of the pipe, but even that was still rare. 

He felt a bit foolish for having asked, until Elrond handed him a pack of matches. “I keep them for when Bilbo comes by my office. He gets rather upset if he can’t smoke, but he seems to be forever losing his lighters.” 

Thranduil fumbled about in his other pocket until he found the small pipe a student had left behind in the morgue. It took a rather embarrassingly long moment to push the herb into the bowl and light it, but he managed and handed it to the nurse, who still had enough life left in her to roll her eyes at him. 

Yet, she pulled the mask from her face and puffed on the pipe for a moment, coughing for just a moment or so before taking a deep breath. Everyone’s jaws dropped at that. 

“I can breathe.” The nurse muttered in shock, as she put the pipe to her lips once more. “Thank the Valar I can breathe!” She set the pipe on the floor and nearly tossed herself at Thranduil, wrapping him in a hug. 

At the table with her team Celebrían groaned. “We played right into his hands. Such a simple herb…we were over-thinking it from the start. I was expecting a much more complicated cure. We may not know exactly what it is, but at least we have a cure. Thranduil, do you have more?” 

“Not on me. But the ambulance bay should have some set aside.” Thranduil stood, helping the nurse to her feet at the same time. She picked the pipe off of the floor and handed it to him. 

Elrond was eyeing the smoking pipe as though it were a jewel. “Keep it with you, and keep it burning if you can. I know it isn’t exactly hygienic to have people share but…” 

Thranduil rolled his eyes. “They’re dying; I think they’ll be able to handle sharing a pipe.” He yanked his haz-mat mask back on (the only piece of the suit he had felt comfortable removing) and pushed past them and out of the door. The ambulance bay was a short walk away, and there were enough hobbits in the emergency ward that pipes would be plentiful. 

* * *

Celebrían

* * *

“I can’t believe I missed it. It was so simple so…the morgue director figured it out! He doesn’t even deal with the living!” Celebrían was pacing the room, eager and ready for Thranduil to return from the ambulance by with the athelas. The sooner he returned the sooner they could find some hobbits hiding amongst the exam rooms and the sooner they could distribute the wide variety of pipes they were likely to find. They could still save some folk—not all maybe, but some. 

Elrond watched worriedly as Celebrían paced. She’d once worn through a pair of shoes doing that, and above all he hated seeing her so stressed. “Well, to be fair, he does take a turn in the other wards when he can spare the time. Not often, I’ll grant but—“ 

Celebrían glared at her husband. He meant well, surely, but that was hardly what she wished to hear right now. She felt as though she had failed somehow—she knew she hadn’t, because Thranduil’s discovery had been an utter accident, any of them could have guessed at it. She just wanted it all to be over now, when they seemed so near to the close of the disaster. 

Elrond looked appropriately regretful and offered his open arms as recompense. She couldn’t help but giggle at that, considering that he was still mostly in his haz-mat suit—his mask was off, but otherwise he was covered in drooping material and thick gloves. 

She dropped gratefully into his arms, hoping that Thranduil would be quick in retrieving the extra supply of the herb. The sooner they could get this cleaned up, the better she would feel--and the faster the hospital could try and find a sense of normalcy. 

* * *

Thranduil

* * *

The path to the ambulance bay was mostly clear, but a few staff members were still trying to rush about, despite looking incredibly ill. He pushed the pipe on all of them, not leaving until they had smoked enough to move to safety without choking every other step. A few out-right glared at him at first, but he ignored that. They were all happy and grateful enough once they realized their lives were being saved. 

In the ambulance bay, there was a multitude of supplies—which was good. The supplies, however, were guarded by small gang of goblins in rag-tag haz-mat gear, all of whom grinned as Thranduil approached. 

“Look, look who comes now. Did you all figure it out then?” one sneered. 

“I thought they weren’t supposed to do that…” another mumbled 

“I really don’t have time for this. Just move. Please. I’ve got way too many dead people to take care of for this—and I’d like to keep that number from rising, so if you please—“ Thranduil started to push past them, until one pulled a gun from behind a crate. 

“We don’t have to do anything you say. You should be dead anyways—would be better for you.” The goblin toyed with the gun for a moment, then pointed it up towards Thranduil’s face. 

“What do you mean I’d be better off dead?” Thranduil spat. He had been tired before, but he was exhausted now, and utterly irritated to boot. 

The goblins snickered and the one with the gun spoke up again. “This is only the start. He’s got plans, big plans for this place. Bet you thought he’d forgotten about all of you. He’s knows it’s here though. And he’ll do whatever he must to get it back.” 

Thranduil struggled to kneel down in his haz-mat suit. “Is that so? And why would such a lowly creature as yourself know all this?” 

The goblin paled. “Well…I s’pose we never really thought…” 

Thranduil’s grin was pure ice. “No. You didn’t. Someone will certainly die yet tonight, but it won’t be me, nor will it be any of the folk back in the rest of the hospital. No, it’ll be you, the stupid little braggart who thought he was so smart to know so much—but you can’t live if you know so much. He won’t let you.” 

The goblin’s arm lowered and set the gun to the floor. The other goblins had gone silent, and Thranduil stood as quickly as he could to push past them and retrieve as many pouches of athelas as he could. He filled a nearby scrub laundry bag with the pouches, then slung it over his shoulder and turned to leave. 

“Ai, mister…” The goblin that had been so cocky and brave a moment ago pushed the gun across the floor towards Thranduil. “Just end it for me now. Please. Don’t let him do it, you don’t know how cruel he i—“ 

Thranduil dropped the sack to the floor and strode to stand in front of the goblin. He picked the other creature up by the baggy neck of his haz-mat suit and slammed him against a nearby wall. “I know his cruelty. I have lost people, to that cruelty and greed. Do not tell me what I do and do not know you vile thing—you are of his army yes, but me? I survived his first crusade, and I will survive this one too. You will not last the night.” He dropped the goblin to the ground, and went back and picked up the sack. 

The goblins were scared now, keening and worried. Thranduil ignored them and the gun on the floor. It would have been too easy to pick it up and kill them all—his father would have done precisely that, and would have pulled Thranduil aside after to show him how to clean any fingerprints off of the gun. It was at times like this that Thranduil was incredibly grateful that he was not the elf his father had wanted him to become. That would have been too easy. 

The walk back was a happy, but tiring one. He let Celebrían and her team take over after he dropped the sack at their feet, and sat back in the room still cluttered with their books and notes, feeling utterly too unlike himself after the interaction with the goblins. It felt a bit silly, to be so bothered by it—he was too old to be feeling that uncertain about himself, or anything else really. Yet he couldn’t quite pull himself off the floor to keep helping—not yet. 

* * *

Elrond

* * *

Sometimes Thranduil was a baffling creature. So full of bluster and confidence and smarmy to boot—yet there he sat on the floor, looking utterly pitiful. 

“Come on, get up. We’ll need all hands we can get.” Elrond offered a gloved hand to Thranduil, who for once accepted the help without a begrudging look. Instead he looked like a much younger elf, one that was much less sure of himself—and that did not fit Thranduil at all. 

Yet the other elf followed after him and helped to collect pipes that were plentiful—but difficult to procure nonetheless. 

“You promise you’ll have this back to me, sanitized?” Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, the runner of the hospital gift shop and resident gossip, sniped at Elrond as he took her pipe from her. 

He sighed. Lobelia was fantastic in her management role, and no one had ever gotten away with stealing from the gift shop while she was there—but she could be a bit much as well at times, and this was one of those times. 

“Of course Lobelia. I could even have a new one made for you, if you would rather be reimbursed for your help that way.” Elrond was already thinking of who might have the time to make her a new pipe—there were a few folks he knew who crafted professionally, but some of the best were actually those in the hospital, who crafted as a hobby. He would have to check with all of them to see if they could help. 

Lobelia merely sniffed and nodded at his suggestion, then walked off towards the exit of the emergency room—she’d only been in there to search for Bilbo Baggins, and so wasn’t pleased that she’d been caught up in the mess or that she would have to be approved by Celebrían’s team before she could leave. 

Elrond had no fear she would follow procedure however, and thought he should also warn Bilbo, who was in charge of the hospital’s records department and the medical library. He guessed the hobbit was most likely hiding somewhere in either department, which was an incredibly easy thing to do—both departments were packed from wall-to-wall with material, and a short hobbit could easily climb up to the top of a filing cabinet and rest there if they wished. 

The rest of the clean-up went better and quicker than he expected. Everyone he talked to or walked past was clearly shaken—and how could they not be? Most thought these sorts of attacks were done and over with, that the worst threat they had ever known was gone. But their peace was gone again—and now everyone knew. However, Elrond would be damned if they went unprepared for any more of Sauron’s nonsense. 

Once it was evident that Celebrían and her team had things under control, he decided it was time for him to get out of their way and head to his office to wait for her. After tonight, he didn’t want to head home without her. 

“I’ll be up as soon as we’ve finished up love—shouldn’t be more than an hour or two, now that everyone’s back up on their feet, with no residual effects showing.” She wrapped him in a tight hug despite the haz-mat suits they still wore, and gave him a small hopeful smile. He was reminded then just how much he loved her—despite the horrible things they’d been through, she still could manage a smile when he couldn’t. And he would be forever grateful to her for her strength. 

He looked for Thranduil before he left, the other elf having drifted away sometime in the middle of clean-up. He found his friend speaking with a recovered nurse, in the doorway of a room that held several body bags. 

Thranduil looked weary. He kept glancing into the room as he spoke with the nurse—about what procedures to use to move the bodies to the morgue, Elrond presumed. 

He waited for them to finish their conversation before walking up to Thranduil. “I’m heading out—soon as Celebrían is done. Are you…do you need help, with…” He found himself at a loss. Thranduil really seemed miserable—and this was an elf who was often referred to as an “ice king” by new and old employees alike. Elrond realized that he’d forgotten the history Thranduil had with the first war against Sauron and his minions—it was no wonder the usually completely composed and sarcastic elf was a wreck. All of those memories had to be weighing on him, and now there was a pile of bodies to work up as well… 

Thranduil sighed and looked again to the body bags. “You two get home safe. I can handle this, and a few of the nurses and doctors have agreed to help get them to the morgue, so it won’t be so difficult to transport.” 

“I’ve heard that Legolas and Tauriel are well—Celebrían saw them leaving a bit ago. I’m sure they’ll help as well if you ask—“Elrond said 

“No.” Thranduil’s words seemed to be so heavy that they thudded to the floor. “They’ve done their share. And they’ll need sleep now, they have to go home. I’ll stay and work these up…get the paperwork done up too. I’ll notify next-of-kin tonight if I can reach anyone—if not there’s always tomorrow.” 

Elrond frowned. “You can’t stay all night. You’ve been up for too long—get them to the refrigerators sure, but then you need to go home. We all need the rest.” 

Thranduil shook his head. “I won’t be able to sleep. Just…make sure Legolas and Tauriel have left safely, if you can. I’ll be fine.” 

Before Elrond could say anything else, Thranduil turned away into the room, and started to check each bag to be sure they were safe for transport. 

Elrond let the door shut in front of him without any objections. He was still concerned for Thranduil, but all he could do now was as his friend had asked. 

After he was cleared to leave, he headed in search of Bilbo, Legolas, and Tauriel. If he was lucky, they would all be easily found by the time Celebrían was ready to leave—and then he might be able to go home and rest before the next inevitable emergency presented itself.


End file.
